


It’s the Thought That Counts

by LaughableLament



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12 Days of Wincestmas, Boys Kissing, Christmas Fluff, Christmas surprises, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, No Sex, Sam is pretty awesome too, Schmoop, creative cursing, dean is an awesome big brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a crisis in the Bunker’s kitchen. Sam will do whatever it takes to save his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s the Thought That Counts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kissmebloody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmebloody/gifts).



Sam’s in the library, leisure reading when he hears an unholy crash from the kitchen.

Dean’s voice: “SonofamothergodcocksuckingDAMMIT!”

He leaps to his feet, tears down the hall and around the corner. Gun drawn, he bursts in, ready to rain fiery Hell on whatever’s violated their inner sanctum. _Shit!_ He barely ducks in time to avoid a flying loaf pan. Place is trashed. Dean’s back is turned, shoulders slumped, on his knees at the heart of the chaos.

“Dean!” He flies, kicks utensils aside. Drops to the floor, reaches out, feels for injuries. “What happened, man? What’s the matter?”

Dean scowls, jaw locked. Fury fires his eyes. “How do we not have a nine-inch fluted tube pan?”

Sam draws back. Maybe Dean hit his head, maybe got himself cursed. “I-uh…” Tell the truth? Sam’s not even totally sure what that is.

Dean gestures around. “Look at all this shit. We got cake pans, pie plates, five fuckin’ sizes of muffin tins…” He picks up a round contraption with a lever on its side. “This?” Dean shakes it at Sam. “Is a springform pan. Nobody owns a damned springform pan.”

Sam blinks. “So-uh… _You_ made this mess?”

“Yes, Sam!” Dean explodes. “’M tryin’ to bake you a bitch cake for Christmas. Was s’posed to be a surprise. But somehow the almighty Men of fuckin’ Letters never saw fit to bring in a — ”

“Nine-inch fluted tube pan,” they finish in unison.

Sam surveys the counter. Dean’s printed out a recipe for a pumpkin cranberry bundt cake. Which, for one, sounds fucking delicious. And two? Dean would never pick out for himself in a million years.

“Tell you what,” Sam says, voice deliberately even. “I’ll run to Walmart. They’ll have one, right?“

Dean sulks. “Probably.”

“You get this place cleaned up, okay? I’ll be back before you’re done.” Sam hauls his brother to his feet. Lays a kiss on his temple. Dean flinches, and Sam’s having none of that. He pulls Dean close, whispers, “Y’know, on the subject of nine-inch — ”

“Sam, you dirty fucker,” Dean interrupts. He bites his lips, tries for a glare but his snicker destroys it.

Sam kisses him, slow and not-quite-chaste. “You love it.”

Dean sticks out a spatula like a scepter. “Get out of my kitchen.”

Sam spreads his palms but can’t suppress his grin. He’s almost out of the room when he turns back. “Dean?”

A grunt.

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus: [Recipe for Sam’s bitch cake](http://www.completelydelicious.com/2013/11/pumpkin-cranberry-bundt-cake.html)


End file.
